“I’m a corporal,” interrupted Rand severely.
“A’ right, corporal. As I jes’ started out tuh say Burnnel an’ me—that’s him there. He’s my pardner—is a hoofin’ it along on our way to Deer Lick Springs, when sudden like, in a little clearin’ in the brush ’long side the trail, we comes upon the body of a man.”
The prospector paused, rubbing his chin with the sleeve of his coat.
“He was dead, corporal,” he went on, “—dead as a dead crow he was, sir, a lyin’ there all stiff an’ cold with a bullet through his head.
“Fer more ’n a minute Burnnel an’ me we couldn’t speak, we was that surprised, corporal.”
“My pardner has told yuh right,” the big man hastened to confirm the other’s story. “He’s back there now, jes’ like we found him.”
During the short announcement by the two men, Rand’s expression had grown severe, as was always the case when he was thinking deeply or when he had suddenly been made aware of some new and unexpected happening. A deep pucker showed between his eyes. He motioned the partners to be seated, produced a notebook and fountain pen.
“Now just a moment,” he began, glancing sharply across at the two tale bearers. “Answer my questions as I put them to you. First of all, just where did you find this body? How far from here?”
Burnnel scratched his head.
“Le’s see—I reckon, corporal, ’bout twenty miles from here, southeast on the trail tuh Deer Lick Springs. It was on the right side o’ the trail, wa’n’t it Emery?”